


unforgettable, beautiful shock

by leeminhyuk



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, Weird pacing, a lot of platonic relationships with jihoon, baejin drinks but he doesn't get drunk so idk either, jihoon has 10 personalities, overuse of cliche scenarios, weird characterization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeminhyuk/pseuds/leeminhyuk
Summary: As much as Jihoon wants, he can't just ignore the shrieks and yells he hears through the wall. The person living behind them might be another problem.





	unforgettable, beautiful shock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baecobz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baecobz/gifts).



> hhhhhh IT IS HERE, FINALLY. before starting off, few words for my secret not-santa(?), the one person i wrote this to. this is really not the best thing i've ever written and my standards with 2park are super high because they have the best dynamics i've ever seen in my life so this isn't a personally satisfying piece for me tbh BUT! i did do my best to make it fun and lighthearted and cute despite its flaws so i'm open for criticism and hope you like it fkjlhsjklhjk for everyone else, MERRY CHRISTMAS! regardless of whether this is a date that brings you good memories i hope you have a nice time or at least receive affection from your loved ones!! happy holidays!!

They’re moving boxes upstairs when he hears it for the first time.

 

They include Park Jihoon — desperate theater arts freshman on his second semester who got on bad terms with his former roommate and had to hurriedly move out on his own — and his kind seniors. Ok, scratch that, maybe only Sungwoon is helping him out of hearty willingness and not to be the first one to play on Jihoon’s Xbox, but Daniel and Seongwoo’s help is still appreciated. His new apartment is in a fairly big building, not fancy and comfortable enough for him to settle down with his few belongings. What makes it cheap enough for him to pay for its expenses by himself, though, is the neighborhood. It was half an hour away from his university and, in all honesty, not the safest one out there.

 

He’s at least glad he has made good friends and acquaintances on the last six months, good enough to assist him on his time of need and guide him into finding a nice place. As steady and in control Jihoon likes to seem, he gets overwhelmed easily and his feud with his previous housemate together with the schoolwork made him feel exhausted. They’re almost done with the boxes, Seongwoo making fun of a bunny headband he found amongst Jihoon’s things, when they hear a shrill that echoes through the whole floor.

 

The person doesn’t even scream once, they let out a sequence of weird and desperate noises with irregular pauses. The _weird_ aspect is how Jihoon can’t put his finger on how to describe their exact intonation — they could be hysterical squeals of joy, melancholic cries of sadness, furious angry shrieks or terrified yelps. They come from the place neighboring Jihoon’s which only scares him further.

 

Daniel stares at the door from which the squeals came from, eyes wide. “What in the world?”

 

“Shouldn’t we knock and check that out?” Sungwoon suggests, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

 

“You do it then,” Seongwoo promptly says, headband almost falling off his head “I don't want to witness a murder.”

 

Sungwoon rolls his eyes and walks towards the door, even if a little hesitant. Who knows what kind of psycho next door would they find at this kind of environment? After the first five knocks with only creeping silence as a response, Jihoon is ready to usher them back to his apartment when the door opens.

 

It’s a boy. Around Jihoon’s height, wearing crumpled animal themed pajamas and slippers, eyes small and taken aback with visible dark circles around them. His hair is a mess of brown locks and overall he has a face that manages to be cute with the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline. Not your average TV series sociopath. “Uh, hi…? Do I know you?” his tone is deep, his gaze awkwardly shifting from Seongwoo to Daniel to Sungwoon to Jihoon. Stopping at Jihoon.

 

He flushes for absolutely no reason other than embarrassment to be under that examining stare. Sungwoon, bless his soul, speaks over him. “No, we’re… Actually, he is moving to the place next door and we started hearing some screams from here? Is everything okay?”

 

Screaming boy scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, sorry, I just got ahead of myself watching this drama. I’m fine. Happens all the time,” though his words are supposed to be casual, he sounds sheepish, half of his sentence only a small mumble.

 

Luckily, Jihoon is fluent on mumbling. It was his second language during high school. “Which drama?”

 

“School 2013,” the boy answers lowly, as if waiting for judgement.

 

Jihoon has learned a bit about controlling his expressions during the last six months plus the acting classes he took during high school. Those are the only reasons why he doesn’t gap like a dead fish at his neighbor’s amazing drama taste. He clears his throat instead, looks behind and gestures at his seniors to keep going. Seongwoo winks at him. Although giving him a middle finger in response might have sounded like a good idea, Jihoon is trying to make a good impression, so he opts for feigning ignorance instead.

 

“That’s a really good one,” he finds a way to say it in a blank but appreciative way, even though all he wants to do is swoon over how hot Lee Jongsuk is “Are you rewatching?”

 

“Nope, first time,” the boy smiles at him tentatively without showing his teeth “I’m Woojin. Park Woojin. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Jihoon,” he bows slightly “Nice to meet you too. Hope we can be good neighbors.”

 

Woojin nods. “Sorry for the screaming.”

“No worries,” Jihoon waves him off, even if he was actually having _a lot_ of worries “I’ll get going. See you around!”

 

He turns around right on time to see Seongwoo and Daniel bunny hopping at Sungwoon’s direction, Daniel sounding gratingly like that one time Jihoon went over the top with the alcohol and tried to drunk charm his seniors into paying for marinated chicken wings. Too late to salvage his reputation now, Woojin for sure will associate him with those losers and never talk to him again, so he goes back to his place with a sigh.

 

“Jihoon.” The voice comes out firm but soft at the same time. It echoes inside his brain in a way too powerful to be mundane. He wonders if God finally remembers he's out there and is reaching for him until he feels a very physical hand shaking his shoulders. “ _Jihoon._  Wake up.”

 

God reveals itself to be Minhyun, which isn’t far from the truth, Jihoon’s TA for Creative Writing and single handedly the reason he hasn't given up on his academic life yet. He rubs the heavy sleepiness out of his eyes and, as soon as the weight of the situation kicks in, he flushes beet red. “Sorry, sunbae.”

 

Minhyun sighs. “Don't _sunbae_ me. Sungwoon hyung is older than me and you’re casual with him, how are we different?”

 

“Sungwoon hyung isn't my teacher,” Jihoon doesn't miss a beat, wearing his smartass smile “Plus, he keeps annoying me with Seongwoo hyung so I feel like I can call him whatever I want.”

 

“And I don't annoy you?” Minhyun asks, very clearly biting down a chuckle “Even with all the talking?”

 

 _Not in a million years_ , Jihoon’s mind supplies, _you're the reason I wake up with enough motivation to drag my nearly dead body to uni and listen through endless lectures and brush off my existential dread to thrive for my future. If one day I graduate it will be not due my endurance and passion for arts but rather thanks to how cool and business-like you look while stepping inside the class. You're the best person in the whole world, perhaps the kindest as well, and the day you annoy me is the day I die._

 

Because his brain to mouth filter still works, he shrugs instead of voicing his inner thoughts. “Not really.”

 

“Then why were you sleeping on top of your notes?” Minhyun raises the question, not unkindly.

 

Jihoon scratches the back of his head. “I didn't sleep well last night. Had to move stuff to my new apartment. Sorry.”

 

“Daniel sent me a snapchat of you two playing Fifa at like three in the morning,” Minhyun comments, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Jihoon’s face falls. He takes notes quietly until classes are over, impending murder on his next plans.

 

Fast forward to his lunch break: trying to find Daniel’s dirty blond hair amongst an endless sea of quirky blue haired theater kids, struggling to get to an empty table while carrying his barely edible rice balls on a tray and avoiding as much eye contact with other human beings as possible. He at least finds Daniel because him and his friends are one of the loudest people on campus - Kim Jaehwan’s shrill laugh could make him be found even if he was one hundred kilometers underwater - and promptly smacks his head, formalities be damned.

 

“Fuck,” Daniel swears, more for being startled than angry, rubbing the spot that got hit “What's up with you and your violence problems?”

 

“Why did you tattle on me to my god damn TA through _Snapchat_ ,” Jihoon sits on the table with a huff, ignoring Hyunbin snickering by his side, and bites on his lunch.

 

Daniel then laughs, of course he does, relishing in the sight of an angry junior. “I thought you wanted him to notice you or whatever, so I sent it. Why?”

 

“That’s literally the least thing I want,” Jihoon sips on his morning coffee that tastes nothing like coffee and everything like cement “He’s supposed to stay unattainable and flawless and I’m supposed to get praises for being a dedicated student but I fell asleep today because I didn’t sleep because _you_ couldn’t stand losing to _me_ on a fucking soccer game.”

 

Jaehwan giggles — not his full on level 10 cackling since he’s slightly afraid of Jihoon when he’s seething like that — and pats his head. “Poor baby.”

 

Jihoon glares. He's glad Seongwoo doesn't join them today because he's sure he'd end up slicing real throats and spending the rest of his life in jail, which is an idea less terrible than having his TA know his status as a stinky gamer. “You'll survive,” Daniel says, unfazed. He's right, objectively, but at the moment all Jihoon feels is embarrassment, so he sulks and eats his food with the dread of having classes for the next three hours.

 

Through the day, he receives three texts: one from his mom with a video of a dog trying to hump a chicken (he doesn't question what amuses his family ever since they almost let him drown in the beach at age three), one from Minhyun asking if he ate his meals (one would get happy but this only confirms his perception of Jihoon as a self-sabotaging homebody) and one from his former asshole housemate saying he hasn't paid for his whole half of the electricity bill (which gets him in a sour mood on his way home).

 

He lays down on his couch with a _thump_ as if his body falling symbolizes the weight of the world. He might be thankful for his new friends and think he could've had it worse but that doesn't mean he has no regrets whatsoever about how his life is unfolding. He's surrounded by talented, nearly brilliant people, from students to teachers and his will seems so lacking in comparison to their fiery, unrelenting passion. Besides, there's still this issue with his housemates which leave a nagging voice saying the falling out was his fault, because he's hard to approach. Hard to tolerate. To live with. Maybe that’s why his mother didn’t mind him pursuing an unstable artistic field, why his brother keeps telling his friends his little brother will be a drama superstar but calls him once in a blue moon.

 

He can't be assured of the opposite either since he tries to keep those worries inside his head so he won't sound weak or whiny. It’s easier to like people who look unbothered, with no problems or issues or insecurities, and who knows what would happen if his close acquaintances found out he’s, deep inside, negative as a person.

 

Crawled up on his blankets and delving on his too large bed, though, he misses human comfort. He misses _comfort_ : he wishes his landlord allowed pets so he could adopt one of his neighbor’s kitties and bring them with him and pet them until he gets happy enough to be functional. However, his reality is catless. Friendless too.

 

There's this guy, Bae Jinyoung from the Music department, he met in a party and now they're friendly. Once, Jihoon had too much alcohol on a winter break party and confessed he feels dejected and alone even around a bunch of people. Jinyoung assured him then, saying he's a great company and considerate and fun to be with and he'd love for them to be closer. He sounded genuine, he really did, and drunk Jihoon would've trusted him with sharing a couple of demons but he started feeling sick and ran to the bathroom.

 

Now he's sober and the idea teases him for a while but he hears a vivid yelp before he can act on it. He has noticed the walls are really thin, which wouldn’t concern him because he’s the quiet type when he’s alone, but that’s not a trait shared by that Park Woojin person. 

 

Jihoon doesn’t have the mental strength to be angry or annoyed, yet he stands up and checks himself up in the mirror (his clothes got him on sticky situations lots of times since it seems like people hate colorful fashion so he needs to make sure he’s decent) before going outside.

 

He doesn’t have anything to do anyway and, while he couldn’t care less about the noise, it could be a problem long term, getting on the way of him studying or taking his afternoon naps. The sooner he makes things clear, the better.

 

Woojin answers after exact eight knocks. He’s wearing a black tracksuit which suits him at the same time it makes him look like a suburban soccer mom.

 

Jihoon wonders if the landlord would be against him installing doorbells on his apartment. He can’t hear a single noise in the world when he has his headphones on, even though no one really visits him, he doesn’t want to leave people waiting.

 

Woojin clears his throat. “Uh, hello again?”

 

“Hi,” Jihoon’s complaint gets stuck on his throat because, really, his neighbor’s sheepish smile only adds to his charms. He’s not used to shy people, hanging with social butterflies like Daniel and Sungwoon and Seongwoo who isn’t as warm as the first two but has a lot of business contacts and can persuade anyone to jump off a cliff given enough time “You got ahead of yourself again, I guess.”

 

“Really?” Woojin doesn't make eye contact, playing with his zipper instead “Sorry. I got too excited dancing.”

 

Jihoon staggers. “Come again? You're a dancer?”

 

“Yeah but that's not what I meant,” Woojin grimaces as a whine comes from behind the door “I got Just Dance 2018 yesterday.”

 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jihoon utters before he can stop himself.

 

He left dancing behind a long time ago when he found out about his acting talents and realized he could grab roles in musicals or plays with choreographies while still fulfilling his want of delving into different characters. However, part of him still enjoys dance as a hobby and something he does to feel lighter, loosen up from the constant alert state he's in. And his neighbor has the last edition of _Just_ fucking _Dance_. He needs to keep it together and retreat camp to his bed, a place he shouldn't have left, because Woojin clearly has people over and Jihoon would be a bother regardless. No one wants to have a dancing showdown with the grumpy guy next door.

 

As if reading his mind, though, Woojin smiles at him, coy and tentative. “You can play with us if you want. We're out of one person,” he puts his hands on his coat’s pockets “I mean, unless you only came here to tell me off for making too much noise, then I'll just die and never make a noise in my life ever again.”

 

Jihoon chuckles, sounding more silly than what he first intended. “As long as you're sure I won’t be a bother.”

 

“I'm sure,” Woojin nods strongly “Please come in.”

 

Jihoon trails behind Woojin with wary steps. He doesn't consider himself an introvert per se, but he’d rather skip social casualties and the getting to know each other state. This, of course, also applies to Woojin, even though hearing his wails and yells might've made Jihoon less worried about his image.

 

He greets the people in the living room with a slight bow. One of them is tiny, wearing overalls that make him look shorter than Jihoon, with bleached purple-ish hair and a cute button nose that crinkles cutely when he smiles. The other has pitch black hair, plump lips and tan skin. Now Jihoon thinks about it, their skins are more to the darker side, even Woojin’s. His furniture is sorted neatly, except for a spotless red couch pushed to the corner of the room so they could have free space to move around, and the curtains are open. Jihoon doesn't flinch at the sunlight, instead notes how Woojin glows quietly under it.

 

“So, introductions. This is Daehwi,” he gestures to the smaller guy “This is Donghyun hyung,” he points to the taller brunette. He looks haughty, in a way, with the smirking and the eyebrows lifting. They're a very cute group of friends and the realization is distracting to say the least “And this is Jihoon, my new neighbor. He moved yesterday.”

 

“Hi,” Daehwi is the first one to speak up and his voice makes him seem even younger than his appearance already implied “Have you ever played this game before?”

 

“Not the 2018 version,” Jihoon doesn't mention his dancing abilities, surprising them might be better for his ego.

 

Donghyun hums in thought. “Shouldn't we choose an easy song, then?”

 

“Harder choreos are cooler though,” Woojin all but whines, grabbing the Xbox remote as if it's a vital part of his body and choosing a Dua Lipa track.

 

Despite them all being decent to _Just Dance_ standards, Woojin makes them all eat dust. He may have gotten so good by practicing, but he also has the sharp smoothness of movements and the body control of a genuinely skilled dancer. He takes off his coat because it's too hot and he has lean, solid muscles. Not the brawny, buff type Jihoon sees around his campus, yet Woojin has a nice body, more realistic and attractive, less downright scary. What makes him look stunning on the moments Jihoon casts a couple of glances at him, though, is his confidence and energy. He doesn't worry about looking pretty or moving a certain exact way, instead he follows his pace while looking absolutely under his element. They play around five songs until the pizza guy knocks and they sit in the middle of the living room, sweaty and breathless, Jihoon insisting on paying for half and Woojin brushes him off like he's an annoying younger cousin who wants to play on his phone.

 

“You're my guest,” he says, folding his slice of pizza in a roll then eating it “I don't make my guests pay.”

 

“Why am I paying, then?” Donghyun asks, the corners of his mouth lifting teasingly.

 

Woojin gives him the death glare. “I don't like you.”

 

Daehwi snickers on his cup of Coke. Jihoon smiles at his pizza slice.

 

(Later at home, Jihoon ponders if befriending his neighbor wouldn't be shooting his own feet, considering his indirect experiences with how potential interests lead to crushes and what they entail. Then he hugs his penguin plushie tighter and tells his brain to shut up and let him have a good day. Not all cute nice boys are worth overthinking.)

 

His relationship with his neighbor develops.

 

Living next door makes the communication easier, plus their paper thin walls let them know what the other is up to in a daily basis and it’s natural for conversations to pick up from there. Jihoon has learnt Woojin is actually not as loud as he was on the first days, hence why the landlord hasn’t kicked him out of the building yet, and only puts on a show when his friends visit or when he wants to call Jihoon’s attention for whatever reason. They have eachother’s phone numbers in an emergency case but rarely text unless their social battery is too low for them to talk through the walls. It’s pleasant, amusing and Jihoon hasn’t felt this distant from his crippling loneliness since middle school.

 

They still have a couple of weird moments between them, though. Like this specific day.

 

Jihoon is snuggled up on his blankets and plushies and throwing the millionth tissue he has used at the trash bin he placed by his bed’s size. He spent the weekend on his hometown and his mother had the flu and amidst taking care of her he might have ended up catching the sickness as well. He texts a couple of his friends warning them he’s sick and asking for notes, texts Sungwoon because as much as he pretends not to care Jihoon remains his only freshman friend after six months for a reason and texts Minhyun. He’s the type to worry about everyone regardless of their closeness extent and Jihoon has shown a worrying behavior pattern so he thinks it’s fair to warn his TA before he starts an early balding process. His smooth, luscious hair does not deserve this.

 

After class, his seniors visit him with a bunch of tissues (bought by Seongwoo), a fluffy peach blanked (bought by Daniel) and aspirin tablets (bought by Sungwoon). Hyunmin sends him pictures of his notes from their shared classes and tells him to get better soon with a bunch of emojis. Later at night, he's greeted with Minhyun at his doorstep in more casual clothes, probably knowing better than to dress up on such a dangerous neighborhood.

 

“Hi, sunbae,” Jihoon stares down at the bowl on Minhyun’s hands and frowns “What's this?”

 

“Chicken soup,” he smiles gently and hands it to Jihoon “I can heat it up for you if it's not too awkward, but I just wanted to know if you were okay and Daniel told me you looked like you were about to die.”

 

Jihoon scoffs. Typical Daniel; good intentions leading to bad consequences, even though a visit from Minhyun in person isn't so terrible. “Do I look like I'm about to die?”

 

Minhyun laughs. “I wouldn't say so.”

 

They spend a short while together. Jihoon eats the soup and compliments the chef, who turns out to be Minhyun because apparently he had to add something else on his list of dreamy assets. Jihoon feels at ease the whole time which makes him think perhaps his crush on his TA was admiration instead of internalized infatuation. He worries more about Woojin’s silence through the day than about whether Minhyun would judge the mess his room was (he didn't) or if he lifts his arms high enough Jihoon would be able to see the abs he idealized for so long (he actually has a cute tummy).

 

He bids Minhyun goodbye with a thousand _thank you_ s. He has plans to return to his bed, curl up on his new fluffy blanket and hope his runny nose make him choke and die until he feels a bad, hospital-y scent hit his nose.

Coming from himself.

He grabs his favorite all pink pajama and drags himself for a hot shower. His bathroom is the only place in which his neighbor seemingly can't hear him despite how loud he sings, so he puts on his noisiest BTS playlist and hopes his off-tune belting shoves those inconvenient viruses away from his body.

 

Already clean, smelling like roses and in a better mood, he wears his slippers and strolls to the couch with Not Today playing in the background. He’s trying to find which channel airs the Friends rerun when he hears a faint knock on the door.

 

Woojin shows up at the doorstep. He's not an actor as good as Jihoon so the way he tries to hide his frown at least is odd. Even more when he pulls Jihoon closer by his waist and presses him into a hug. He stiffens before allowing himself to delve into the feeling because Woojin is solid and warm and is wearing pink pajamas just like Jihoon's “Long time no see,” he snuggles on the curve of Jihoon’s neck “You're smelling nice.”

 

“It was just the weekend,” Jihoon goes on defense mode, holding his hands close to his body so him and Woojin could be at a safe distance “And I just took a shower. What about you?”

 

“I got bored and heard you playing music,” Woojin puts his hands on his pants’ pockets “Can I come in?”

 

Jihoon nods. “You're lucky I was about to start my Friends marathon. I'm sick, though.”

 

“I can take care of you,” Woojin sneers, flexing his muscles that his pajamas make seem nonexistent “We’re wearing a couple look anyways, it’s destiny.”

 

The corners of Jihoon's mouth quirk up. He hates the light, pleasant pressure of his heart against his chest but nothing he couldn’t ignore. “Get inside, loser.”

 

(The effect of the shower starts wearing off a little after they decide to start the latest season of Stranger Things, Woojin arguing he’s tired of Jihoon blabbering about their dynamics and throwing popcorn at Ross, and he falls asleep halfway through the first episode. His sick, vulnerable mind thinks it is a good idea to lean on Woojin for his nap instead of sleeping on the armrest like he’s used to. The last thing Jihoon remembers is gentle fingers threading through his hair and warm lips on his forehead. He wakes up on his bed, though, and deems it as a miracle protecting him from a stiff neck.)

 

Jihoon might have to rethink his life plan and include around ten years of prison on it, because he's about to choke Woojin with his own vocal chords.

 

He usually looks upon his neighbor’s loudness fondly since that’s one of the things composing his bright, unpredictable, amazing personality; they’ve gotten closer to the point of occasionally even addressing personal things and Jihoon can’t imagine his life without Woojin and his jokes and his particularly heartwarming way of showing he cares.

 

However, this time, Jihoon needs to write a Sociology paper on theater arts within society due in two days. He has to analyze a particular piece and reflect upon how the historical scenario molds the script and the general theme of the play. Although it’s not a boring subject, it’s one he should focus on to avoid common senses and usual grammar mistakes. His grades are in a dangerous zone too, so he reckons he should at least be done with most of his schoolwork before the deadlines hit and he wastes his chances for good.

 

“Can you tone it _the fuck down,_ ” he screams to the walls, sure anyone who walked in would deem him as an overworked college student gone insane. His hair is tousled, he’s wearing his ‘know-it-all glasses’ — according to Donghan, his friend and one of his former fleeting crushes from high school — which makes his eyes look too big for his face, around twenty tabs are opened on his notebook, his sheets are thrown to the floor and a pile of crumpled paper is forming where his pillows were supposed to be.

 

“Good morning to you too!” Woojin chirps, sounding out of breath despite cheery “What are we up to?”

 

“ _I_ am trying to write this paper,” Jihoon says between gritted teeth “And _you_ are being a noisy pest as always.”

 

Woojin giggles, quiet and easy and Jihoon wouldn’t have listened if he hadn’t stuck his ear closer to the thin walls separating them. “You sound stressed. Can’t you take a break?”

 

“Impossible,” Jihoon weakly replies, even though nothing would make him happier than shoving those papers aside and taking a nap. Or drinking. Or even sitting around at Woojin’s place and watch whatever shenanigans he got himself into.

 

“Jihoon.”

 

“I _can’t_ ,” he cries, louder, almost hitting his notebook with his feet “I’m gonna fail the year.”

 

“I’m coming over.”

 

Woojin isn’t the most proficient guy when it comes to words. He demonstrates his affections and whatnot through actions, more of a boy to bake a cake to cheer you up than to write a five paragraphs long text about how wonderful you are. Their short lived friendship — and it’s terrifying how Jihoon feels comfortable to name them as friends despite knowing some people for longer and still labeling them as acquaintances — has teached him to expect the unexpected from Woojin and never take his actions lightly. He’d go through countless measures to help the ones he loves.

 

However, Jihoon still yells when Woojin picks him up like he’s a worthless rice bag and strolls to his apartment. One of the few kids in the building stare at them blankly and Jihoon shows her his tongue from his spot on Woojin’s shoulder and she cries. Always a gentleman.

Speaking of chivalry, Woojin drops Jihoon on his couch without much ceremony. He’s wearing his gym clothes, a white tank top and black loose shorts, glistening with sweat, his hair glued to his forehead. Jihoon marvels for the nth time on how attractive he finds his neighbor, how he can dress so simply yet look so good. Sungwoon would say he needs to follow suit but, really, he doesn’t think he can pull it off as well as Woojin does. He makes basic black and white look dashing. 

 

“Okay,” he casually starts as if he hasn’t just dragged an unwilling Jihoon to his house “Do you want to talk?”

 

Jihoon shakes his head. “I’m okay, it’s just a end of semester spiral. Don’t worry.”

 

Woojin chuckles without humor. “You don’t get to decide that and I don’t believe you but fine. Let’s work out.”

 

“No way,” Jihoon crosses his arms against his chest “I don’t have your stamina.”

 

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Okay, grandpa, at least help me finishing my morning routine.”

 

“At your service,” Jihoon smiles at him with fake sweetness “It’s not like I have a choice.”

 

“You know it,” Woojin puts both his hands on the ground, placing his mat under him “Get one of the plates that are on the table, please? And put it on my back.”

 

Jihoon inhales sharply. He grabs the plate, feels its weight and places it on Woojin’s back as if he has dropped a bomb, taking care not to touch skin. Jihoon watches his neighbor’s body going up and down with minimal effort and wonders what would it feel like to run his fingers through his hair. To touch the curve of his back, the line of his shoulders, feel muscle and bone and skin and heat. Jihoon shifts his gaze from Woojin to his hands on his lap, downright ashamed at his thoughts, then digs his nails into his palm when he hears Woojin panting and the plate falling to the ground. _Get yourself together,_  he can hear Minhyun’s voice from when he’s scolding him for doodling on his notebook instead of writing. Despite the contexts being different, Jihoon definitely should get himself together.

 

“Now,” Woojin mutters and puts his mat aside with his feet “Now for the jumping jacks. Count ninety seconds for me.”

 

Jihoon opens the stopwatch app. He starts counting the time when Woojin nods at him and doesn’t stare, this time, but a fleeting smile graces his lips as Woojin giggles about how ridiculous he looks and how jumping like a starfish isn’t manly or sexy. Jihoon’s paper and school and grades start feeling like someone else’s problem. Being around Woojin makes Jihoon loosen up, melt a bunch of the stress and overthinking stuck to him like his second skin, much like what dancing means to him if he were to make a metaphor. He wonders what does he feel like to Woojin, too.

 

“Ok, you’re done,” Jihoon closes the app before his neighbor could see how he missed the cue for five seconds for being too distracted “What now?”

 

“Twenty sit ups,” Woojin breathes out, dramatically sprawled over the floor “Then _death."_

 

Jihoon smirks on his own annoying way. “Who’s the grandpa now?”

 

“Still you,” Woojin snaps, but his eyes are warm and fond and reassuring. Of what, Jihoon hasn’t figured out yet “Help me. Hug my legs.”

 

Jihoon has mentioned before he lets his guard down when it comes to Woojin an awful lot, more than he ever intends to, but nothing tops how he chokes on his own saliva and goes on a coughing fit as soon as he hears the words. He hates the mix of sensations Woojin makes him go through without even realizing — at one moment he’s calm and at ease; at the other he’s on the edge, gulping down and cheeks flushed red. “How so?”

 

Woojin stares at him for a beat longer than necessary, an unreadable glint on his eyes, before getting to his original sit up position, laying down with folded knees. “Hold them still. On this position.”

 

Jihoon does what he’s told despite the lump on his throat and startles at how stiff Woojin himself is. He bites back a sigh. “You’ll count?”

 

“Yeah,” Woojin says then takes a deep breath. The air around them is hardens with an unspoken, heavy, palpable tension. They’re not strangers to it — as much as they love pretending it doesn’t exist, Jihoon still gets suspiciously breathless whenever they’re watching movies and Woojin falls asleep on his lap, Woojin still finds the lamest excuses to cling to Jihoon with tentative hands as if asking for permission. Friends don’t have this thick layer of self-consciousness among their interactions but Jihoon would rather die than acknowledge it.

 

Acknowledging it means he has to take a course on action. Decide what to do with them — are the passing moments of waryness, of want, worth more than their comfortable friendship?

 

Jihoon stays perfectly still while Woojin goes up and down, counting under his breath. He’s beautiful, though he doesn’t have actor visuals like Seongwoo or a flower boy face like Jinyoung. He’s all smooth curves and small eyes and thick lashes and blinding smiles and energy and kindness. He breaks into a giggling fit at sit up number thirteen, snaggletooth showing, and his warmth could rival the sun. (And win since he’s a competitive asshole.)

 

“Go ahead,” Jihoon cheers for him but his voice comes out small “Only seven left.”

 

Woojin lets out a tired last laugh before continuing. His voice comes out louder, his smile fades. _Seven._

 

Jihoon is nervous. He taps his fingers on Woojin’s knees, doesn’t know where to look, the lump on his throat growing bigger and heavier. _Six_.

 

Jihoon has been making a habit out of counting the moles scattered through Woojin’s body. He notices one more, slightly above his top lip, faint and light brown-ish. _Five._

 

 _Four._ _Three._  He’s now sure Woojin has lost his rhythm, but he can’t gather the strength to point it out or tease him. The only thought on his mind is how easy would it be for them to kiss, how it’s been a nagging possibility on Jihoon’s brain for a while now and he could do it and he’s quite sure Woojin wouldn’t mind. He might not correspond Jihoon’s affections, fireworks might not explode on his chest when he talks to him, but Woojin acts like he would at least not mind being kissed by the grumpy boy next door. _Two_.

 

 _One_. Jihoon blames his gut feeling — he is experienced with doing stupid shit and making rash decisions last minute after a lifetime of reflecting and being careful and it’s a trait of his he should re-evaluate but then Woojin gets up. He’s out of breath and his eyes are glazed and Jihoon’s heart squeezes against his ribcage and something inside him snaps. Like a rubber band you push too far and it rips apart.

 

Enough of metaphors, what you need to know is Jihoon leans in and crashes their lips together in the clumsiest, most impulsive and awkward act of existence; disregarding how Woojin is as soft as Jihoon imagined, it’s a mess and he pulls away with regret tugging at his insides.

 

Woojin’s eyes widen as if the weight of the universe was shifted in front of his eyes. Jihoon feels heat creeping through his face, going from his neck to his cheekbones, and he opens his mouth for an apology while simultaneously planning to move out again. Maybe he could live on Daniel’s dorm. Maybe Sungwoon would take him in. Maybe—

 

Maybe Woojin is cupping his face and his parted lips are the last thing Jihoon sees before he’s pulled in for a kiss. A decent, deeper one, Woojin’s legs wrapped around Jihoon’s waist, Jihoon’s one hand tugging at Woojin’s hair, the other trapping him against the mat. Jihoon nibbles on Woojin’s bottom lip, bites on the skin, laughs softly at the whimpering noise he makes and kisses him once more, at the corner of his mouth and at his jaw. He stops when he feels Woojin grinning and, right now, he’s the most beautiful person Jihoon has laid his eyes upon and the stars in the sky fall to their knees in comparison to him.

 

His smile then fades, because he knows what that means. This isn’t only a physical thing, he didn’t want to kiss Woojin solely because he’s attractive. He wanted — he _wants_ , his lips feel numb and tingly and he wants to keep on doing this until the sun goes down — to kiss Woojin because he makes him feel like he’s floating on thin air, because he’s clever and funny and weird and charming and knows what to do to make Jihoon feel appreciated and cared for. He likes _likes_ Woojin, romantically, and the realization makes him stand straight in a halt, untangling Woojin off him. He tilts his head slightly, as if asking what’s wrong, what’s the matter, why did he stop.

 

Jihoon’s breath catches up on his throat. He can’t do this. He gives Woojin one last glance and mouths _I’m sorry_ from the door before bolting away.

 

Avoiding Woojin is painful.

 

After the incident, Jihoon barely hears him like he’s used to. He sometimes tries to listen with a cup on the wall because he’s a creepy loser who can’t unattach but the only noises he hears are either incoherent mumbling or Just Dance music with the quiet thumping of steps against the floor. No wheezing, no laughter, no conversations before sleeping and as hard as Jihoon works to focus on the other aspects of his life he still feels empty. Having an almost roommate who could tolerate him made him feel more confident when it came to making friends and cherishing them, sometimes having Jinyoung over to have deep talks or make mobile game contests (which Jinyoung always won because, according to Jihoon, he has millennial advantage).

 

However, it lacks a high-pitched horror movie laughter and meaningless bantering and scaringly similar tastes in everything but fashion. He _misses_ Woojin, as a friend and as what Jihoon’s delusional scenarios imply they could have been.

 

As soon as the semester ends and Jihoon passes with flying colors — the thought Woojin would’ve been proud of him sends a wave of something akin to heartbreak through his whole body —, Daniel suggests a party to celebrate. It’s just an excuse for him to drink more than he does on the usual bar meet up but Jihoon, seeking a way out of his thoughts, supports the idea wholeheartedly. Jinyoung confirms his presence after his older friend insists he needs someone to keep him from doing stupid shit and even _Minhyun_ offers to give them a ride.

 

Jihoon from the first half of the year would’ve been glowing at those news. He has a heated event upcoming and is going with a friend he can trust and his biggest aspiration on campus yet he can’t bring himself to be fully happy.

 

 _Well_ , he tells himself as he walks through the door linking arms with both Jinyoung and Minhyun, _fuck it_.

 

It’s an outdoor area, with a table full of snacks and, for the nation’s utmost joy, a bar packed with drinks and a hot bartender to boot. A hot bartender, Jihoon concludes with a gasp muffled by the booming music, he knows. Donghan recognizes him right away and waves. “If it isn’t my favorite wink boy!”

 

For the record, that’s the worst thing he could have said. Jihoon went viral on their small city circle because of a play in which he winks at the end of the choreography and their entire female population collectively swooned (some males too, that’s how he ended up meeting Donghan and his friends). He used to have more than a thousand non-bot followers on Twitter thus being crowned as “wink boy” by his rising fanbase. Of course, the buzz wore off after he graduated and moved to Seoul in hopes of getting more recognized on his field plus getting that embarrassing shit out of his history.

 

He has no idea from where Daniel knows Donghan but he’s about to murder both. Jinyoung stares at him with both his eyebrows raised and Jihoon hits him with his elbow. “Don’t ask,” he threatens then turns to Donghan with the biggest scowl he could muster “I want the worst type of poison you have there, by the way. If I walk out of this party alive I’ll sue you.”

 

Jinyoung pats his older friend’s back in comfort. “Just pour him some soju. Beer for me.”

 

Donghan frowns. “Can you even drink?”

 

“Have you ever dealt with drunk Jihoon?” Jinyoung shoots back, ignoring Jihoon’s offended _‘hey!’_ and his pathetic version of a death glare. If he wasn’t sober that question could’ve made him genuinely insecure.

 

Countless shots later (two beers for Jinyoung), Jihoon already lost his sense of balance and his shyness when it comes to strangers, having already grinded on six of Daniel’s friends on the dance floor and almost making out with a particularly adorable guy with a nice smile before Jinyoung stops him yelling _not my roommate you heartbroken witch._  The guy looks baffled and Jihoon sends him a flying kiss as an apology. He’s about to turn around, ask for cute smiley boy’s number and not give a fuck about Jinyoung being a bad friend but his wording is wrong. “I’m not,” a hiccup, Jihoon’s head feels heavy as he tries to focus his vision on Jinyoung’s traitor face “heartbroken.”

 

Jinyoung wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders and brings him to an empty seat at the bar. “Of course you aren’t.”

 

“I’m not!” Jihoon whines “I wanna drink more. Where’s Donghan?”

 

“I think you already had enough to drink, buddy,” a blurred face that might be Donghan quips.

 

“I need to forget him,” Jihoon says under his breath, holding Jinyoung by his shoulders as he chants the same words fervorously like a prayer or a spell.

 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Jihoon, calm down.”

 

“I can’t calm down,” Jihoon speaks and his voice sounds like a whisper to his own ears but blur-Donghan flinches, so he lowers his voice even more “I’m a dumbass, Baejin. Why my neighbor? Of all people, why my fucking neighbor? Do you even know how wrong could this go? I can _hear him through the walls._ ”

 

“Sounds haunting,” Jinyoung chuckles “I think you’re overreacting, by the way.”

 

“Your informal speech is bothering me,” Jihoon points out, petty.

 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung adds with a tired emphasis on the honorific “You’re overreacting. He kissed you back and it sounds like he likes you, why did you run?”

 

“Because I don’t just like him,” the alcohol makes those words flow natural but guiltily out of Jihoon’s mouth, in the same way a faithful church girl would spit out her sins in a confessional “I think I’m falling for him. I don’t care if he’s loud, annoying, stubborn, I’d run away with him and live in a modest cabin in the woods and not be a trophy wife because I can’t cook but I’d try hard and this can’t just _not_ be one-sided. Stupid ass friendship ruining feelings.”

 

Jinyoung opens his mouth to say something and a voice that’s probably not his comes out instead. “Jihoonie?”

 

And Jihoon almost scolds the younger male for referring to him with an informal speech again and stretching the limits of their friendship when he realizes the voice is too deep, too raspy to be Jinyoung’s.

 

Woojin grimaces at him and offers a tentative hand. “Can we talk?”

 

Jihoon doesn’t have a say on the subject since Jinyoung drags the two of them to an empty couch and demands them to talk. He’s beet red and breathless from his rambling and his lips are slightly parted but no words come out. He hadn’t expected this outcome — sure, stumbling on Woojin once or twice leaving the apartment is a given since they live so closely but at a party thrown by one of his close friends? Hearing his heartfelt drunken confession? Seeing him make a move on enough party guests to form a volleyball team? Jihoon wants to cry. He could have saved at least their friendship if given enough time to get over his uncalled for feelings but now he ruined everything once and for all with his stupid coping methods—

Tears stream down his face, hot and wet and shameful, though he doesn’t mind because Woojin leans closer and kisses him. A peck on his lips, on his cheeks, on the corner of his mouth, on his forehead, on the tip of his nose. “I missed you,” he whispers, lifting Jihoon’s chin to kiss him again, deep and gentle, his breath smelling like mint and beer when they part but Jihoon is reeking of alcohol so he barely processes it “so much. What were you thinking?”

 

“I wasn’t thinking,” he can’t look away, Woojin has such kind eyes and they overflow with the purest kind of affection “I really like you, Woojin. I don’t want us to end bad. I’ve never done this before, the whole crushing thing, and the things you can do to me are too much.”

 

Woojin’s grin widens, brightens. “Never?”

 

“Shut up,” Jihoon tries to hit him but misses it “Not all of us can have feelings, asshole. Check your privilege. I didn’t kiss that much either.”

 

“Really?” Woojin laughs and this time Jihoon’s punch lands on his shoulder, though weakly “Sorry, it’s just surprising. You looked like you knew what you were doing at that mat.”

 

Jihoon blushes deeper, he’s sure of it, the heat spreading to his neck and ears. “I crushed your skull with my lips. I think I headbutted you.”

 

Woojin pulls him for a hug. Jihoon does not resist, instead melting on the way Woojin’s arms find their way around his waist. “I really like you too, Jihoon. I’ve had a bunch of crushes but you were my second kiss. My first good one.”

 

Jihoon giggles on Woojin’s shoulders. “We’re a fucking mess, aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah,” Woojin kisses the top of his head “But we’ll work this out.”

 

Jihoon doesn’t believe him, but he wants to — for now, over purple strobe lights with deafening bad music playing on the background and Woojin’s lips still burning on his skin, it’s enough.

 

* * *

 

(Woojin comes back home after the holidays to a Jihoon wearing tiger slippers, a crooked Santa hat on his head and a mistletoe wrapped around his finger. Woojin thinks he might’ve gotten what he asked for Christmas, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> 1) yes the last line is an opening to a spin-off(?) with woojin's pov because i have good ideas about woojin's friend circle and how he ended up at daniel's party and it didn't fit here but honestly? it will happen  
> 2) yes the title is a dramarama reference  
> 3) yes my jihoon is the worst jihoon ever written sorry about that


End file.
